Unforgiveness
by The Escaped
Summary: After Queen Pauha's failed attack on Emelan, news trickles to Ninver about the traitorous Amery and the weather-witch who defeated a fleet. Lark is alone when Darra Chandler comes to reclaim her daughter. A special Mother's Day present to the CoM fans!


_Hello! I wanted to write a story about Lark for Mother's Day. I'd been toying with the idea of a reunion scene between the Chandlers for a while. After everything that happened with Amery, I believe that the Chandlers must have heard what happened at Winding Circle. Wouldn't they see Tris as a potential asset after what had happened? We know that war-mages could be quite valuable. However, Lark and Rosethorn, as Tris' foster-parents, wouldn't let them within ten miles of Tris if they could help it. Maybe later Rosethorn will get a chance to speak her mind with them- if they can survive it!_

_Takes place just after Tris's Book._

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Cicle of Magic series, characters, etc._

Unforgiveness

Lark was the kind one. That was why people would think it was fortunate, when the woman strode up the path to Discipline, that it was Lark who was sweeping the front step. Briar and Lark were on one of their trips to Urda's Womb, now that things were settled after the pirate's attack. Sandry was with the Duke, and Daja was safely ensconced in the forges. Tris was drowsing deep inside the house, a book propped in her lap as she caught up on the sleep she'd been missing.

The newcomer was a stout woman. Her red hair was bunched into a no-nonsense bun. Everything about her screamed no nonsense. She didn't wear spectacles; her eyes were brown, not grey. It didn't make a difference. She was the score-aged mirror-image of the girl reading in the house.

The Living Circle was generous, Lark reminded herself, they welcomed all with open arms. So she watched as the woman unlatched the gate. Lark put down the broom and met her on the path, before she thought to enter the house.

"Can I help you Mistress Chandler?"

Uncertainty; that she had seen in this face before. Then it was gone, hardened to an expression Lark _hated_ to see on Tris' face. "I didn't send word that I was coming."

"No." agreed Lark pleasantly. And it was the truth: Lark had never met the woman before, but she had glimpsed her in dozens of scowls, in ugly black dresses and sharp words. She kept her thin smile as the woman looked her over. From the look of things, she didn't impress this merchant woman. That was fine. Stitch-witches were often overlooked. People forgot how well they wielded needles. "How can I help you?"

She hesitated on the words. "I've come for her. Trisana."

Lark bit her tongue to keep from correcting her. Tris hated to be called Trisana. If her mo-this woman- called her that, Lark didn't blame her. "What prompted this?" She asked, leaning slightly against the doorframe to block the woman's entrance. "From what I was told, you were eager to be rid of her. She is quite convinced you have no desire to see her again."

Tris would have set off sparks about now; Mistress Chandler only flushed a blotchy red. "We got news," she sputtered, "Pirates- lightning-"

"Ah yes. How unfortunate for your family that your nephew was involved." Eyes narrowed in a pale face. They both knew no merchant would want to do business with a family tainted by pirates. Lark continued as if she didn't notice. "And then you must have heard how Tris used her magic as well. To save us. Lucky for us she wasn't the monster you told her she was."

She was growing redder. Unfortunately, Lark suspected it was more due to anger than shame. She had enough experience with the like of Mistress Chandler. "The magic tester said she didn't have magic!" she snapped. "We did the best we could with her oddness and-and her madness- You don't know what it was like-"

"Tris isn't mad." Lark said coldly. Her mind went to the scorch marks on the table, the bunches of herbs that went flying from the ceiling whenever Tris got into a temper. Of how she taught Briar his letters when she thought the pair was alone. She wasn't being fair and she knew it, but she couldn't bring herself to show kindness to a woman who had cast her daughter out. "And your best wasn't very good. You should have taken her to a different magic-tester, one competent enough to recognize ambient magic. You should have tried to understand her, instead of shuffling her back and forth. You should have done a number of things better than you did."

"I demand to speak to my daughter!" The woman's voice was rising. Lark hoped the book Tris was currently buried in was enough to distract her. She was too worn out to hear them, with nightmares plaguing her nights. Luckily the winds had fallen short in the noontime lull.

Lark leaned close to her, until only a breath of space remained. There was fear in Mistress Chandler's eyes. Good. "She isn't your daughter anymore. She's mine, and if you ever try to talk to her again I will make whatever she did to you look like Mila's blessing. I will spread the tale of Amery Glassfire to the far corners of the earth, so that no one will ever do business with your people again. I can't stop the damage you already did to her, but Mila and Green Man witness it I'll protect her from you now."

The woman seethed, unable to take a step into the house. Lark spared her a last glance. "Get out of my sight. You won't want to be here when the rest of my family come back. They're not so kind as I."

Mistress Chandler would never be able to storm as well as her daughter did. Lark made sure she actually left before returning to Discipline. Tris looked up as she entered the room. She was almost finished with her book. "Lark?" she asked, alarmed, as the woman hugged her fiercely.

"It's nothing." Lark said, throwing the conversation from her mind. "I'm being maudlin."

Tris wriggled in her grip, blushing furiously. Affection always made her flustered, in a way that made Lark's heart ache. "Lark! What's the matter?" The purple smudges under her eyes were beginning to fade at last, as her nightmares were losing their hold on her.

"Nothing." And it was nothing. Mistress Darra Chandler was worth less than the time it took to talk to her as far as Discipline Cottage was concerned. Lark was the kind one. She hadn't killed Darra. But then, that might have hurt Tris. And Lark was through with people doing that.


End file.
